It was quiet, not even the sounds of birds or of noisy insects around the thick forests that were far and wide.
The gloom still wore on her face, robbing her of all the joy and once forbearing stoic nature she had put up with the Demon King.
Hermione sluggishly stride with her restrictive hands in shackles. It made her feel a whole lot of discomfort but she was too much in a bad spirit to take that into consideration. Her eyes dulled with a brooding aura that best defined her mood. Showing it off without hiding to the sadist demonic monarch who trailed behind her as if at any given opportunity, she would disappear into thin air like some sort of magic. It made her wonder then, why he had granted her the permission in the first place if he was to be feeling this skeptical about the whole thing.
